CHAPTER 166: UEFA CHAMPIONS LEAGUE (1)

The days that followed were a blur of recovery, analysis, and preparation.

But for the first time in weeks, the players had a night off.

A chance to breathe. A chance to be normal people and not just footballers.

For Leon, that meant one thing: a comfortable spot on his sofa, a large pizza on the coffee table, and the glorious spectacle of the UEFA Champions League.

He flicked on the TV, the familiar, epic anthem of the tournament filling his apartment.

The pre-game show was in full swing, and they displayed the Serie A league table, a beautiful sight that still made his heart swell with pride.

[Serie A - Fixture 34]

1. Inter Milan - 86 pts

2. AC Milan - 81 pts

3. Juventus - 80 pts

4. Napoli - 77 pts

5. Atalanta - 75 pts

Four games left. A five-point lead. It was a comfortable cushion, but not an insurmountable one. One slip-up, one bad result, and the pressure would come roaring back.

The Champions League, however, was a different kind of pain for Leon.

A sharper, more recent wound. He winced as the broadcast showed a highlight reel of the quarter-finals, and there it was: the moment their own dream had died. A flash of a Barcelona jersey, a dazzling run, a perfectly placed shot into the corner.

[Lamine Yamal - Potential: 98, Current: 91]

The kid was a phenomenon, a generational talent. In their quarter-final second leg, the game had been tied, heading for extra time.

And then Yamal had produced a moment of pure, unadulterated magic, a solo goal that had ripped the hearts out of the Inter players and sent them crashing out of the competition.

The memory still stung. It was a reminder that on the highest stage, against the very best, sometimes even your best wasn’t enough.

But tonight wasn’t about his own team’s ghosts. It was about the glorious drama of the semi-finals. And what a line-up it was.

Two colossal matches, both kicking off at the exact same time.

He had two screens set up, a remote control in each hand, ready for a night of footballing heaven.

On one screen: FC Barcelona vs. Manchester City.

On the other: Bayern Munich vs. Liverpool.

It was a clash of titans, four of the biggest clubs in the world battling for a place in the final. But for Leon, the first match was personal.

It was Lamine Yamal, the boy who had ended his dream, against Manchester City, the team of his best friend, Biyon.

And, of course, the team with the unstoppable goal-scoring cyborg.

[Erling Haaland - Potential: 96, Current: 95]

"Come on, Biyon," Leon muttered to the screen, taking a huge bite of pizza.

"Shut that little magician down."

The first twenty minutes were a whirlwind of action.

Leon’s head was on a swivel, his eyes darting between the two screens.

In Munich, Liverpool and Bayern were locked in a brutal, physical battle.

Harry Kane had already hit the post for Bayern, while a Mohamed Salah-led counter-attack for Liverpool had been thwarted by a brilliant save from Manuel Neuer.

But in Barcelona, it was chaos. The game was an end-to-end track meet.

Manchester City, as expected, tried to control possession, but Barcelona’s young, fearless team was playing with a wild, attacking abandon.

In the 22nd minute, it happened.

Lamine Yamal got the ball on the right wing. Byon, playing at left-back for City, was in position. Leon leaned forward, his pizza forgotten.

Don’t let him cut inside, he thought, his own defensive instincts kicking in.

Yamal feinted to go down the line, and Byon, a world-class defender, didn’t fall for it.

He stood his ground. But Yamal’s feet were a blur.

He performed a lightning-fast step-over and then exploded inside, leaving Byon a half-step behind. It was the exact same move he had used to score against Inter.

Yamal surged into the box and squared the ball across the face of goal. Robert Lewandowski was there to tap it in. 1-0 to Barcelona.

Leon groaned, slumping back into his sofa. "Damn it, Byon."

He watched his friend on the screen, who was looking at the ground in frustration. Leon knew that feeling. The feeling of being beaten by a player who was just, on that day, in that moment, unstoppable.

But Manchester City were champions for a reason. They didn’t panic.

They got the ball and went back to their methodical, patient passing. And they had a cheat code of their own.

In the 35th minute, Kevin De Bruyne found a pocket of space.

He looked up and whipped in a trademark, curling cross. It seemed to hang in the air, a perfect invitation. And then, a blond blur of motion.

Erling Haaland rose above two Barcelona defenders, his body seeming to defy gravity, and met the ball with a header of such power it was like a gunshot.

The net bulged. 1-1.

"YES!" Leon shouted, pumping his fist. "That’s how you answer!"

He flicked his eyes to the other screen just in time to see chaos erupting in Munich.

A long ball over the top had sent Liverpool’s Darwin Núñez through on goal.

He rounded Neuer, but the angle was tight. Just as he was about to shoot, Bayern’s Matthijs de Ligt came flying in with a perfectly timed sliding tackle, hooking the ball off the line. It was a goal-saving, season-defining challenge.

Leon’s heart was pounding. This was better than any movie.

The skill, the drama, the sheer, unscripted intensity of it all. This was why he loved football.

The first half ended in both matches, a brief, welcome chance for him to catch his breath.

He stood up, stretched, and grabbed another slice of pizza.

As he sat back down, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Biyon, sent from the halftime dressing room.

Byon: "This kid is a nightmare. Any advice?"

Leon smiled. He typed back a quick reply.

Leon: "Show him onto his left foot. He’s not as comfortable there. And tell Haaland I said hi. From one goal machine to another."

He sent the message, feeling a strange mix of pride and longing. He was on top of the world in Italy.

But this, the Champions League semi-final, this was the stage he was desperate to get back to.

This was where the monsters played.

He settled back in for the second half, his focus absolute. The fate of the two biggest matches of the season was about to be decided.

And as the teams walked back out onto the pitches in Barcelona and Munich, a new notification quietly appeared in his Vision, triggered by the sheer concentration of elite talent on his screens.

[SYSTEM UPDATE: High-level tactical data being processed. New analysis module ’Manager Mode’ is now at 50% completion.]